Iron Knights
by BecauseWhyNot57
Summary: A fic set in some of the bloodiest battles of WWII. This is not so much a RWBY fanfic as it is a work of historical fiction that happens to have RWBY characters. The battles were real and the units that fought in them actually existed. This is as much a tribute to the show as it is to the men and women who were actually there. Arkos and a couple other ships if you squint.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** _This is not so much a RWBY fanfic as it is a work of historical fiction that happens to have RWBY characters. The battles were real and the units that fought in them actually existed. This is as much a tribute to the show as it is to the men and women who were actually there._

* * *

 **DISCLAIMER:** _I own nothing. RWBY and all its properties belong to the late Monty Oum and to Rooster Teeth. The memories and legacy of the 745th Tank Battalion and the 51st Field Hospital Battalion belong to the men and women who served in those units._

* * *

 **Iron Knights**

 **Prologue**

 **Pennsylvania, August, 1942  
**

They held each other as if their lives depended on it. And to a degree, it did.

"Must you leave so soon?" the young girl with long crimson hair and brilliant emerald eyes pleaded.

"It's not my choice, dear. Orders are orders." replied the blond-haired soldier. He was to ship out to Texas to join his new unit the next morning.

"You'll write me every day, right?" She rested her head on his chest as they stood in their living room. They had been married only a month and already he was being taken away from her. It seemed as though all of her hopes and dreams were being burned to ash before her eyes. The whole ordeal felt like an arrow had pierced her chest. She wept quietly into his uniformed chest.

"Don't cry, Pyrrha. I'll have Ren there to look after me. Besides, we'll be tankers. There's nothing that Jerry can throw at us that could get us." But she was beyond consoling. She stood there in his arms, weak in the knees, capable of only repeating his name as she wept.

"Jaune...Jaune...Jaune…"

* * *

 **Chapter One: We'll Meet Again**

English Channel, June, 1944

"JAUNE!" The shout ripped him from his thoughts. He was not home anymore, and Pyrrha had been replaced by a raven-haired Asian boy. Jaune shook off the rest of his nostalgia. Tired hands gripped wet, frigid metal as Jaune gazed out at the massive fleet that was now steaming its way across the English Channel. A half-finished cigarette burned between his fingers.

"Yeah, Ren?"

"Lieutenant Branwen wants all tank commanders for a last minute brief down in the vehicle bay in ten."

"Thanks, buddy." Jaune drew one last drag before tossing it into the ocean.

"You doing all right?" asked his closest friend. The two had been friends since their school days, growing up only a couple streets over. They had played football together, worked on cars together, and had even been each other's best man at the other's weddings. So it was only natural that they joined the Army together. Their wives hated the idea, but there was no stopping them.

"Just thinking of home. Pyr would have a fit if she knew what we were about to do."

"Your fault for marrying a nurse." Ren lit a cigarette of his own. "How is she? Saw you reading a letter earlier."

"She's fine. Still working at the hospital. Scared as hell for the both of us, but when is she not? How's Nora?"

"She's been alright. That factory job's really treating her well." With the majority of the male workforce now in uniform, their jobs had been taken over by women. Nora had fallen in love with the idea of the "Rosie the Riveter" posters and had gotten a job at the local factory shortly after Ren had arrived at tank school.

"Glad to hear it. You get a chance to talk to the rest of the crew?"

"I was gonna have you do that, Sarge. One last pep talk before we roll into the history books, eh?"

"I'll do my best. Gather them in our berthing area in about twenty minutes. I should be done with the captain's briefing by then." The two shook hands and parted ways.

* * *

Why the Army decided to put him in charge of a tank crew was beyond him, but he seemed to do an okay job at it, by his standards. The crew had gotten along pretty well with each other right from the get-go. Ren had taken the position of gunner, arguably the most important job in the whole crew, and one that suited his calm and cool nature. Then there was Sun, the sandy-haired, fun-loving loader, and Neptune, the self-proclaimed cool guy, who served as driver, both from the Chicago area. Those two were even closer than Jaune and Ren, and also the crew's two jokesters. Then there was Oscar, the tanned, and dark haired assistant driver and bow gunner. He was the youngest of the five, having lied about his age to get in. Yet, for some reason that no one could ever figure out, he was also the wisest. And he had a strange sixth sense for imminent danger and hidden traps. The crew had dubbed him "The Wizard" for it. The four men were now gathered in their berthing as they waited for their commander to return.

"So this is actually it, huh?" said Neptune. He was wearing a blue wool watch cap with his tanker goggles over it like some sort of alpine hiker.

"I can feel it," Oscar replied, "Or that might just be the Sergeant's wrath once he sees you with that dumb thing you've got on."

"What? C'mon, do you know how many poker, dice, and darts games I've won because of this thing? I'm telling you, it's lucky. Say, Wiz, you're good with all that hocus pocus shit. Tell me it's not lucky."

"Hey, now, I can only predict the bad stuff."

"Oh, and it's warm too. I was standing out on deck earlier and I didn't even feel cold."

"Yeah, that's because it's June, you dumbass. I'm surprised you even went out on deck," Sun cut in. Neptune was notoriously afraid of the water.

"Hey, no one asked you, Monkey Boy." Neptune shot back at his friend. Sun had gotten that name during training for monkeying his way along the barrel of their 75mm cannon during down time. The two stared at one another, making like they were about to fight it out when they simultaneously broke into grins and devolved into roaring laughter that soon had the whole compartment going. Their antics were almost always contagious.

"Alright, settle down, boys," Ren stepped into the room. "Sgt Arc'll be back any minute now." Ever since training, Ren had been Jaune's de facto second in command. Jaune returned from his meeting a few minutes later. While he might not have been the most eloquent speaker, he did know how to rally his troops.

"Alright, everyone gather around and listen up." The four other men shifted to give their leader their full attention. " I just got back from speaking with Lieutenant Branwen. The plan tomorrow is as follows." He laid out a map with several overlays on the floor. "The 741st will be the first to try to get their tanks ashore. They'll be launching direct from their landing craft. If all goes well that means we'll be doing our own deep wading just like we practiced. Our first elements will be the recon platoon at around noon. Baker company has been tasked with leading the main body and old Qrow has angled for our platoon to be the tip of the spear, so look sharp." There were nervous looks all around the cabin. An amphibious landing like this had never been attempted on such a massive scale.

"What time do we launch?" asked Neptune.

"They want us on the beach by 1500. From there we'll be working for 16th Infantry under Captain Port. Any other questions?"

"Yeah," Neptune piped in again, "can I wear my lucky hat?"

"Nep, if you think that stupid watch cap will bring us any luck, then by all means wear it. We're gonna need all the luck we can get."

"Hell, in that case, I should've brought a couple of rabbit's feet," said Oscar.

"I thought you said you only did impending doom." Neptune was now testing to see if his good luck charm would fit under his tanker helmet.

"Do you believe in destiny?" questioned Oscar. The atmosphere changed sharply

"Enough of that. I'd rather not jinx ourselves before we get a taste of combat." said Jaune, now lying in his bunk, reading Pyrrha's most recent letter over and over again. She'd enclosed a recent picture of her to keep with him. "I suggest everyone turn in and get whatever sleep you can. We've got a big day tomorrow."

* * *

The five men of Jaune's tank crew tried to rest, but it was little use. Between the drone of the ships and the roar of the thousands of planes that filled the sky, trying to rest was almost impossible. Jaune found himself walking about the vehicle bay, smoking a cigarette to try to calm his nerves. He climbed up on his tank and sat on the engine deck. It was a good tank. Through long weeks of training, the Sherman had become his home away from home. In away, it had become the sixth member of their merry band. The whole crew affectionately referred to the vehicle as a woman, and named it "Beowulf", the name now proudly painted in black on either side of the hull. In preparation for the amphibious landings, mechanics had fitted the tank with two massive snorkels over the radiator and exhaust port. In addition, the crew had tied down extra supplies they'd need in order to sustain themselves in the long campaign to come on the outside of the tank. Inside, they carried 97 rounds of 75mm cannon shells, close to 4,800 rounds of .30 caliber ammo to feed the two machine guns mounted in the inside of the tank, and 300 rounds for the big .50 caliber Ma-Deuce mounted on the back of the turret. In addition, they had enough rations to last them at least two days, all the tools necessary to keep them rolling, several guns to defend themselves outside of the tank, enough fire extinguishers to put out the tank, god forbid it ever get to that point. Jaune shuddered at that thought. He had heard the horror stories from some of the guys who had been in North Africa. The German guns were capable of cutting through the American tanks like a hot knife through butter. Jaune dug for Pyrrha's picture, kissing it.

"Is that your wife?" came a gruff voice from below.

"Lieutenant Branwen." he offered a poor excuse for a salute. His platoon leader was never much one for formalities. "Yes it is, sir." Jaune hopped down from Beowulf and showed him the picture.

"May I?" he asked. Jaune handed him the photo. "She's quite the dish. You lucked out, Arc."

"Thank you, Sir. How about you? Are you married?"

"Only to whiskey." the grizzled officer replied, retrieving his flask and taking a long pull. "Here. Put some hair on your chest. It works wonders on the nerves." Jaune took a quick swig, gagged, then coughed violently.

"Christ! What do you have in there? Gasoline?"

"Moonshine. Got it back when we were back up in Devon for training." Qrow shrugged. Jaune coughed again, putting away Pyrrha's photo. He pulled out another cigarette, and offered one to his platoon leader, who took it with a nod.

"Think this will work, Sir? The operation, I mean."

"Only time will tell. I've seen a lot of well thought out plans end in disaster, and this whole thing about swimming tanks to shore doesn't sit easy with me."

"Good thing we'll just be wading in then."

"I wouldn't count that egg before it hatches. We'll be up to our turrets in water." Qrow took a drag from his cigarette, the glow from the cherry illuminating his grizzled face.

"My boys are getting a little anxious, Sir."

"Any man who says he's not afraid right now is a damned liar. That includes those star-studded desk jockeys who came up with this plan."

"How about you, Sir? Are you scared"

"Shitless. That's why I'm staying out of my head. It's a bad place to be before a fight."

"You've been in combat before?"

"I didn't say combat. None of us have seen combat. I have, however, been in a few fights. Including a few that Uncle Sam doesn't need to know about." Jaune looked at his superior quizzically. Qrow waved it off. "Long story. Anyways, what I was saying is that tomorrow, there won't be time for fear. Just your job. Do that and you'll be fine. Get some sleep, Arc. Morning will come quicker than you think."

* * *

And come quick it did. A little before six, Jaune was all but thrown from his rack by a massive explosion. Then another, and another, and another each followed by a horrible shriek as massive shells, some as tall as a man rocketed towards the French coastline. Jaune was normally a heavy sleeper and had eventually managed to doze through most of the din of the airborne operations that had started at around midnight. But this, this was different. Another salvo rocked their vessel. Everyone was up now, looking around, dazed.

"Christ, have we been hit?" asked Sun, sitting bolt upright.

"Relax, it's just the Navy," Jaune said checking his watch. "They've started the bombardment."

"Sounds like a damn train going overhead," the other blonde swung himself out of bed.

"I don't think I really need to say this, but I've got a very bad feeling about today." Oscar was up now, pulling on the jacket he had been using as a pillow.

"Don't get jittery on us just yet, Wiz. The landings haven't even started yet."  
Ren climbed down from his bunk.

"Easy for you to say." the young boy shuddered. Their ship rocked from another series of blasts. Outside in the passageway, footsteps went sprinting by. The whole vessel was alive with life.

"We've got a few hours til we're up to bat. I'll be on deck if anyone needs me." Jaune grabbed his coat and cap and walked out.

From the deck of the massive landing ship they were on, Jaune could already see men on the smaller vessels getting ready for their part. Tens of thousands of infantrymen and heavy weapons teams were clambering over the sides of their ships, down massive cargo nets that had been repurposed into ladders, and into the tiny boats that would carry them to shore. Jaune turned his attention to the coastline. In front of them lay five miles of heavily defended sandy hell the Army had designated as Omaha Beach. It would be one of two beaches the Americans would be assaulting. The other, Utah, lay to their right flank.

Jaune went over the plan in his head again. The beach was divided into ten sectors. His specific sector, designated "Easy Red", was the largest. It was nearly 300 yards of steel obstacles and barbed wire with a mass of concrete bunkers that lay just inland that stuck out along the beach's cliffs a murderous city skyline. The plan was to have the battle hardened veterans of the First Infantry Division knock out the beach defenses and push five miles inland by the end of the day. They'd be supported by the 741st Tank battalion, with their modified Duplex Drive tanks that allowed them to swim to shore, in the morning and Jaune's 745th Tank Battalion, hopefully, by noon. Everything was set to run like a well oiled machine. But no plan ever survives first contact.

* * *

It was a bit after six when things started to get exciting. The armada had moved in closer, and now the Germans were returning fire. Shells splashed in the water all around them. Small boat engines were now sputtering to life as the landing craft, now laden with troops and tanks, began their harrowing approach to the beach. The fronts of several of the larger ships had opened and the DD Shermans had come rolling out and splashing into the water. It was an odd sight, seeing a horde of thirty-eight ton tanks float to shore. They were slow, and bobbed violently in the rough seas. Jaune and several others watched them as they swam. Qrow stood with them with a handheld radio, listening into their radio chatter.

"They're out too far," the grizzled officer said, "they'll never make it." His subordinates turned to look at him when the radio came alive with panicked cries.

" _The Channel is too rough! We've got water coming through the hatches!"  
_

" _Able One-Five is taking on water!"  
_

" _WE'RE GOING UNDER! EVERYONE BAIL!"_

" _GET US OUT OF HERE!"_

One by one, the tanks began to disappear beneath the waves, until there were only two remaining from the twenty-seven that had been deployed. Soon after, some of their crews popped to the surface, tearing off every bit of gear that weighed them down. Suddenly there was a loud _BANG_ to their right. One of the larger landing crafts had taken a hit to their bow doors.  
 _"Charlie One-One. They hit the ramp. We're stuck in here."_

Qrow sighed and shook his head. Jaune and a few others looked at him in horror.

"Remember how I said I had a bad feeling about today," Oscar said after a moment, "that feeling just got a whole lot worse."

Things went from bad to worse as the first wave of the infantry made their way to the shore. Explosions and gunfire filled the air. Jaune and his men watched in horror as countless landing craft were destroyed before they were ever able to deliver their troops to shore, and those that did were gunned down where they stood. It was an all out slaughter.

"We're supposed to land… in that?" Sun asked nervously.

" Land in it, clear it, and push five miles inland." said Ren, ever stoically.

"Christ almighty."

Jaune turned away, not being able to stand any more death. He walked to the rear of the ship, lighting a cigarette. He took out Pyrrha's picture once more. If there was one person who could always calm him, it was her. The world just seemed to make sense when she was around. If only she knew what he was about to do. Jaune let himself chuckle at that one. She'd be an absolute wreck. The two had always been rather protective of each other. Jaune would always step in when another guy would make advances on her, inevitably ending in a brawl that he'd likely lose, and Pyrrha would always be there to patch him up. He thought back on how, after one particularly rough scuffle with a boy from a rival school, she sat there, quietly humming as she cleaned him up, and then gently chided him for not being careful enough. All the caution in the world wouldn't save him now.

Time passed all too quickly and before Jaune knew it, each one of their tanks were being loaded into a smaller landing craft as the vehicle bay began to slowly flood. massive doors at the rear of the ship groaned open to allow water in so the smaller boats could float on their own. Jaune and his crew gingerly climbed into their tank and Neptune fired up its mighty engine. From his commander's hatch, Jaune could hear Lt. Branwen arguing furiously with the bosun of his landing craft as he backed his tank onto his boat.

"Oh no. You listen to me, Squid. You're dropping us off as far in as you can fucking take us, is that clear?" Qrow was bellowing. Jaune wondered how much of that was caused by the alcohol, and how much was from watching almost all twenty-seven tanks from the 741st sink like stones. Trying to forget that image, Jaune called down to his own boat team leader.

"Hey, Navy. Yeah, you're gonna drop us off as close to the beach as you can get, right?" The sailor below nodded.

With a tremendous roar and a violent jolt, the landing craft lurched away from the ship that had been their home for the last two days and began churning for the French coastline. The reconnaissance platoon of the 745th had already gone ahead of them, at around half past noon and had been met with horrible losses. Jaune prayed that their late arrival would find the defenses significantly softened up. After all, there was still a five mile brawl inland once the beach was secured. The jagged coastline that flashed with the burst of a thousand guns and grenades seemed to say otherwise.

For the second time that day, time moved much faster than Jaune had hoped for. With little warning, their landing craft stopped, dropped the ramp, and called for them to disembark. Jaune and his crew rolled into their first taste of the war with a tremendous _SPLASH_! They were still a good ways off shore, and from what he could tell from his periscope, they were still in about eight feet of water. _At least we're touching the bottom_ , thought Jaune as they slowly lumbered up towards the beach. From his armored island, Jaune could see the the jagged landscape formed by every kind of beach obstacle imaginable, protruding from the sand like an iron briar patch. All around them, other tanks from his unit began taking fire. Terrified men, no older than he was were wading ashore with him from other landing craft, driven forward by only their will to live. Massive geysers of water erupted all around them in a seemingly never ending series of ear splitting bursts. As they slowly made their way out of the water and up the beach, some tanks became mired on underwater obstacles, or disappeared under the surf entirely, haven driven into shell craters made by a naval shell that had fallen short of it's target. Others were hit by the hellfire of the enemy's guns and exploded, leaving no chance for any of the five men to escape. Once out of the water, the men of the 745th were exposed to nothing but carnage and chaos. Mangled bodies and burning vehicles covered the sand. The beach was a shooting gallery for the German defenders, safe in their bunkers. They raked the men in the sand with machine guns, mortars, and artillery. Whole units of men lay strewn across the beach, cut down like blades of grass. As they continued to advance, Jaune saw three young men, likely no older than he was taking shelter in a crater. They sat there, huddled together, talking to each other. He was thinking of how thankful he was to be protected by his tank's thick armor when a well placed mortar round hit the shell crater, sending sand and body parts flying. When the smoke cleared, there was nothing left of the three boys.

A blast from his own cannon shook him out of his bewilderment. Both Ren and Oscar were laying down a blistering fire from the tank's two machine guns. Sun had already loaded another round into the tank's main gun.

"CLEAR!" Sun roared.

"ON THE WAY!" came Ren's reply. The gun roared once more. Snapping into what he had trained all those months for, Jaune quickly fell into his role as Tank Commander, instructing the four other men in various tasks.

"Sun, load one round, high explosive, Ren, traverse right twenty, line up on that forward bunker. Fire!" The tank rocked with each shot.

"This isn't fucking working!" Ren swore as his rounds fell short. Bullets were pinging off the armor, like hail on a tin roof. Explosions burst all around them. Through the din, the gunner could faintly hear the sound of men outside dying around them, suffering from ghastly wounds he was thankful he couldn't see.

Suddenly, the whole tank bucked like it had just crashed into something hard at full speed. "FUCK! ARE WE HIT?" Jaune screamed.

"Yup. Antitank round just bounced off our front armor," Neptune replied, "Can we not do that again?"

"Everyone alright?"

"We're all good up front boss." came Oscar's voice over the intercom, his machine gun still chattering away.

"At least we should be," came Neptune's staticky reply. "I think they might of hit something important. I'm not getting anything from her." The five men let out their own slew of curses. "Wait, no, there she is. Just stalled out for a second." There was an audible sigh of relief over the roar of the battle. The tank continued to advance.

They fought on for what seemed like an eternity, lobbing shell after shell into the German positions. They slowly crawled up the beach, providing much needed cover and fire support to the soldiers around them, a few of whom had fallen in behind his tank and now trailed it like a group of frightened ducklings. The oncoming fire seemed to die down from the withering hellstorm that it once was. In sectors further down the beach, some of the concrete defenses had already fallen into American hands. At last, another tank from Jaune's unit finally blasted a feasible exit off the beach and with one gallant rush, Baker company and the infantrymen they were supporting advanced through the breach and inland. A special group of engineers had snuck ashore in the predawn hours of the morning, constructing a road that the tank's could use to climb the hill that led off the beach and further inland.

While the day wasn't over, Jaune was beginning to grow weary. The next task was to secure a small town on the high ground just a few miles inland alongside the now exhausted men of the 16th Infantry. There, they easily pushed through the Germans but were swept back by friendly fire when a naval bombardment began to level the town with them still in it. By eight that night, their objective had been taken, though it was still a hotbed for action. The men of Baker company spent that night between the crossfires of their own troops and the enemy's. Jaune took the momentary lull in the fighting to its full advantage, allowing his crew to open their hatches for the first time since they had landed. Enjoying the fresh air but still sitting low inside the turret so as to not expose himself, the young man lit a cigarette and tried to take in everything that had just happened, and everything that was about to happen. There was still much work that had to be done. There were foxholes that needed to be dug, sentries that needed posting, patrols that needed to be sent out, and a mountain range's worth of reports that needed to be written. On the beach, miles of communication wire sat in massive spools waiting to be unrolled and hooked up, crates of precious ammunition that were desperately needed by the men on the front lines, as well as food, water, and medical supplies for the wounded and dying heaps of men that still lay scattered in the sand. The scale of it all made Jaune feel rather small, yet still vitally important. For the first time, he began to understand what it meant to be part of something much larger than himself. Something that could alter the course of history itself.

* * *

An ocean away, a nurse sat glued next to the radio, her prep work long forgotten. Like so many others that afternoon, all that mattered to her was the news about the Allied invasion of France in some place called Normandy. All that mattered to her was a name, or rather lack thereof, spoken that evening as the list of fallen heroes was rattled off like names at graduation. All that mattered was a goofy blonde kid with blue eyes and an easy smile. All that mattered was that he was okay. That he was alive, and still coming home to her waiting arms.

* * *

 **A/N:** _Well there it is. The first chapter of the long talked-about Iron Knights. Hope you guys enjoyed it as much as I had fun researching it. A whole lot of work went into making this as accurate as possible. The 745th Tank Bn was very much a real unit during WWII and did, in fact, successfully land almost a full company of tanks onto the Easy Red sector of Omaha Beach on the afternoon of June 6th, 1944. From here on out we'll be more or less following their route through Europe as they fight alongside the famed Big Red One Division, which they supported right up until the end of the war. Next chapter we'll meet some of our favorite ladies and what they're doing to support the war effort. Don't forget to drop a review. Since this is my first attempt at a fic, I welcome all constructive feedback. Special thanks to Cardshark92 and Izwalke for helping me out with bouncing ideas and editing and revising. See you all in the next chapter. This is Becausewhynot reminding you to buy war bonds!_


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Update: I'm sorry…_

 _Hey guys, Becausewhynot here. I'd like to apologize for the lack of activity here, and I feel you all deserve an explanation. About three months ago, I moved and changed jobs. Since then I've been running full bore with very little rest, leaving me little time to even think about writing. Such is life when you work in a hotel restaurant in a tourist town in the summer, and also put time in as a Reservist. Good news is, effective today, I'm no longer working at the hotel, and will have more reliable and steady hours coming soon. What's better is that I had chapter two probably 80% completed before all the chaos started, so you should be seeing something, oh around early August or so. Please bear with me, your reviews have been so wonderfully supportive. This project has gone from a side venture spawned out of a research session to something I never could have foreseen. Thank you all for reading, and the next installment will be out as soon as I am able._


End file.
